User blog:MerchantofDeath/New FF or RP story.
Keep in mind, this is based on my Open Window Project Universe I created. It's really hard for me to come up with ideas for this story, but here's a bit I've thought up. That Deep, Philisophical Feeling... New York City June 3rd, 2016 "HIT THE DECK!!!" Corporal Bill Harris of the 2nd Infantry Division dove into the broken up concrete just as the energy bolt came flying past him. His arms and elbows took most of the force of the fall, but it still hurt like a bitch ducking like that. He turned around on his back, and looked for any causalties caused by them. There was one, Private Johanson, and the only thing that was left of him was a smoking skeleton with pieces of cooked meet on it. Harris vomited what remained in his stomach, and a little bit of the water that was left in his stomach got on his BDU. "Corporal, get you ass back in the game!!", yelled Sergeant Greg Myers, reloading his SCAR-H behind one of the sandbag defenses. Harris began trying to stand up, using his M4 Carbine to balance himself. The surviving Styker from 5th Platoon was still raining lead on whoever the fuck was shooting on them, but the enemies' enerhy bolts were burning wholes in the side of the Styker; literally. He could even see the vehicles crew locating targets down the street from where he was. Harris streached his head to look above the skyscrapers, where explosions from both the SAMs were trying to light the enemies' air support up with the help of the F-16s that the Air Force still had availiable for NYC. One F-16 even went flying around Harris' regiments' road doing a barrel roll, breaking the glass windows that still remained on the office buildings, which rained little pieces onto the troops. But behind the F-16 came one of the enemies ships, which looked like the worst black triangle that Harris had ever seen. It fired two red bolts, which quickly flew above the road and hit the jet. Instant death was the only option for that pilot. How many hours has it been? Two? Six? Fifteen? When the hell did these guys get here, and how the fuck did they manage to get past our radar and satellites? More importantly, where did these sonsofabitches come from? "I said get you ass over here NOW Corporal!!!", yelled Myers, firing off rounds from his rifle. Harris quickly snapped back into reality, back into the loud and bloody battle was ensuing. He ducked while he was running, to avoid the super hot bolts of light or whatever the fuck it was, running over the Sarge to see what he could do. But, quickly, he got out from under his cover and looked for a target. His heart stopped a little when he saw one of the enemy, whoever they were. They were tall, really tall, probably twelve feet max. They wore glistening blac armor and a helmet to go with it, with black visors covering their faces from debris. From what he could see from the distance, they were also physically built like a human, but he wasn't very sure that they were ''human. They looked like what Harris thought was a Futuristic Hoplite. He looked down his Holographic sight, put one of the enemies' head in the crosshairs, and fired a volley of bullets at it. As they began to hit its helmet, most of them bounced off it without even the slightest damage occuring to the creature. However, whatever it was was royally pissed at Harris, and aimmed its own gun at Harris. His eyes widened as he saw the creature raise its own gun, and Harris began to involuntarily duck behind the sand bags. By the time the being had fired, Harris was already behind the pretend safety of the sandbag, low crawling over to Sarge. He managed to reach Myers, who was calling Overlord from his radio. "Overlord, this is Hotel 4-5, I need an immediate A-10 strike on an enemy position down 6th Street immediately, we are being overrun!" Overlord quickly responded, making Harris cringe when he heard his response "Hotel 4-5, this is Overlord. I've been hearing a lot of airstrike calls, and most of them said the exact same thing son. You will get an airstrike, son, but not immediately,over" At Overlord's response, a burst of enemy fire came flying over the sandbags, forcing Harris and Myers to duck for cover. The bolts sunk deep into the the Styker, killing all the crew inside. Myers cursed, and clicked on his radio. "This is Hotel 4-5, that is a negative Overlord. I need an airstrike right now. My Styker support is offline and 6th Street is a key evacuation center, and there are dozens of tangos attacking my current position." Myers waited again, the seconds that both he and Harris had to wait were agonizing. "This is Overlord, Hunter 4-5; you're just going to hold that position son, I'm sorry. We're dealing with a massive shitstorm here right now, and we just cannot get to you." "Son of a bitch!", Myers cursed, hitting the sandbags with his fist. He looked over to Harris, who was just as shocked as he was, with red eyes. "We're going to need hold this line for as long as possible, and then we're going to wing it. Fuck this all to hell man." Myers grabbed his SCAR-H and began spray firing againist the enemy, shooting and cursing at the same time. Harris aimmed his M4, and began firing at any targets he could find. For a moment while he was firing, he pondered the forms that laid just across the street. They were carrying weapons that looked much like spears, big spears with some kind of hacking tool at the end of it. But the spears fired the deadly blue bolts he had learned to dispise, which made them even more fearsome. But he looked at the almost human like qualities of the beings, which impressed him. Their leader, another tall being, wore black and white armor; and was ordering out commands the same way Sarge did: hand movements and yelling. The others, wearing the pure black armor, continued firing at Harris' platoon without delay. They were a very ordered group..... Harris ducked again as a blue bolt came flying by, melting through the burning Styker's chasis. The enemy fire was steadily increasing every two minutes, and he knew they were going to make a plunge through their lines. Harris got out from his cover, and shot at two of the enemy who were loading their weapons on the other side. To his suprise, one of them did fall from his fire, but the other remained unarmed. He smiled crazily through the gunfire, ''I got one! I fucking got one! But Harris didn't have time to waste, and continued firing at the enemy from his position. His bullets began to bounce off the enemies' shielding like BB's againist steel again, much to his sadness. For the next ten minutes, the two forces exchanged fire with each other over control of the road; battling tooth and nail for it. Harris witnessed moments that would have scarred men's lives for lifetimes: Specialtist Howard Jones getting his arm completely torn off by a bolt while firing his fifty cal., screaming in agony as the Medic tried to cover the blood pouring out of his arm; Pvt. Reynolds jumping out and charging out at the enemy, only to get torn to pieces by some bizarre weapon; and Sgt. Myers crying as he shot at the enemy. These moments were horrible ones, and if those two sentances hadn't come on he would have put the barrel of his gun in his mouth and pulled the trigger. "Hotel 4-5, this is Albatross; we have secured all civilians in the area and are retreating. God speed." The platoon shouted in joy through the dirty smoke and the stench of blood, even as the enemy continued to fire at them from the other side. Suddenly, without warning, an A-10 Warthog came streaking across the sky; dropping cluster bombs on the enemy position. The other side of the road lit up like a Christmas tree. Harris hopped over the sandbags like each of the soldiers in his platoon, charging towards the enemy lines to kill any survivors that had somehow managed to live. When he hopped over the next metal wall, he only found the steaming pieces of metal on the ground that was formerly the enemy. He screamed in joy, they had kicked the enemies asses in this battle. Everyone in the platoon was cheering in joy over their small victory over the unknown enemy as if they had somehow managed to kick them off planet. But, had Harris and the platoon been paying attention, they would have noticed the new dangers running towards them. Harris turned with the smile still on his face, and suddenly stopped dead in his tracks. He scarsely had even seconds to lift his gun before the monsterous creature with that yellow eye was untop of him, pushing him on his back. The other soldiers were firing off their weapons at the sight of the monster just as the creature's mandibles inserted into Harris' face, killing him instantly. His comrades tried every desperate attempt to survive, either shooting at the creatures or running from them. They didn't make it far before they too found themselves in the jaws of this band of Monowolves, as the Nazis would have called them so long ago. They feasted on the soldiers flesh until the Alpha male, the one that had killed Harris, clicked and howled to his pack. The Monowolves then moved quickly, for the Alpha had smelt new prey for the pack. Gallery BLACKSITE02.jpg|The Creatures. 153.jpg|Cpl. Harris running for cover. A10.jpg|The A-10 Warthog getting ready to attack its target. Senate Guard by raikoh14.jpg|A rough represenation of the enemy. Category:Blog posts